Zhou Zishu thought that Wen Kexing’s teasing had made him a little oversensitive to these matters. If Wen Kexing copped a feel, let him; Zhou Zishu was a man anyway, and it was still up for debate who was taking advantage of the other. Magnanimously, he ignored him.

Having taken advantage of him, Wen Kexing continued with his pretence of innocence and slowly slid his palm lower, increasingly satisfied as he found that this figure was pleasantly slender, though slightly too skinny. But there were benefits to a thin frame as well--if his clothes were off, this small waist could be enveloped entirely within Wen Kexing’s grip, and it would feel even more enticing.

Unwilling to lose, Zhou Zishu retaliated by pinching his flank, timing it with a squeal from the woman within the room. He even rubbed his two fingers together, huffed a light stream of air from his mouth, slanted his gaze at Wen Kexing, and smirked.

The look in Wen Kexing’s eyes darkened immediately. He hauled him into a tight embrace, and kissed him before that smile of Zhou Zishu’s could fade. As neither of them dared to make any noise, they could only exercise the limited scope they had, pitting their skills against each other under great constraints. Zhou Zishu had not been able to react in time on the first occasion, and on the second occasion, he had been in agony from his injuries. This was the first occasion where they were on even ground.

Between the two of them, one flocked amongst beauties, acquainted himself with countless highest-ranking courtesans, and took up visiting all the brothels in this world as his duty; the other had escaped from the capital of the ten-mile Moon-Gazing River, and was long accustomed to such social entertainment and playing the role required of him. They were veterans of dalliances; even when it came to the slide of lips and teeth, if it wasn't one force prevailing over the other, it had to be the other force prevailing over him.

After an indeterminate length of time, when the breath of air in his chest nearly stifled him, when even those overly-enthusiastic noises from the two people in the room had quietened, Wen Kexing finally let go of Zhou Zishu, who was similarly trying hard to suppress his unsteady breathing, grasped his hand, and leaned in very close.

All of a sudden, he stopped smiling and looked at Zhou Zishu quietly, as though he had a thousand things to say in that instant, but ultimately resigned all of them to silence. As those in the room ceased their activities, the song coming from the front yard grew more distinct. A delicate feminine voice was singing softly, "Memories of plum bring me to Xizhou, to him in Jiangbei a branch of it goes…"